Motherin's Day
by ClutchPaper
Summary: Tom heard Hal breathing heavily, almost as if he were verging on goin' into shock. "You've got flour everywhere. Every single crevice. You Neanderthal, this is why Annie cooks…"


Author Note: Fun little One-Shot. Love Being Human. So...well, here we are!

* * *

The plume had just settled when I let out a loud cough. Licking my lips was the wrong response to the dry feeling that had invaded my nose and mouth, I ended up with a flour-saliva paste on my tongue. I sniffed out through my nose, and then I realized I was doing so over the food...Hal wouldn't be happy if he had seen that. So, I turned away. I pawed the flour from my eyes and just ended up getting dough in my eyebrows. I couldn't call for help, I wouldn't, it would ruin everything. All this hard work. I knew that Annie could pop in at any second and this would all be pointless anyway, but I still had to try. McNair had helped me learn to be real stealthy like when need be. I'd had better luck killing a nest of vampires.

I finally managed to wipe most of the mixture off my hands onto my shirt and could clean off the dough around my eyes. Blinking a few times to make sure nothing was gonna stick tight, I headed to the sink and splashed a bit of water on my face. It was drying as fast as a thin coat of blood does, and I knew I had to get it off before I couldn't open my eyes. I used a clean corner of my shirt to dry my face off. I was saving on laundry by not using a tea towel or somethin', so I was being real helpful to Annie today.

Returning to flour bag, which had burst open on me, I grabbed a handful of the powder and sprinkled it slowly into the mixture I had made. Once I guessed it would be enough to thicken up, I grabbed a spoon and began to stir. As I gripped the handle, I realized my right hand had still been wet when I had plunged it into the flour bag, and was now covered in white paste. It looked a bit like the mixture that McNair would use on bee stings. My attempt to add flour was because the cookbook had suggested adding more if the dough seemed real runny, but it didn't give any measuring sizes. Jus' told me to add more. I'd had to stand here for a while and wonder how the dough should look, as in the book it was described as "wet and a bit runny". The book wasn't any help if I didn't know how much.

I heard something sizzling. I dropped the spoon, and heard it slip down the rim of the bowl and "plonk!" disappear into the dough. I didn't have time to hunt for it though, the sizzling meant the pan was ready. I grabbed a rasher of bacon and put it into the pan. Grease began to splatter immediately, and I gave a hiss of breath, before biting my inner cheek hard, glancing back at the doorway. Nothing.

I pulled another slice from the hunk of meat and set it in next to the other bit. More grease sputtered and splattered, I began tossing the bacon in quickly to get it over with, and to avoid more of the burning liquid. Once the bottom of the pan was covered, I figured that was enough, and put the rest of the raw meat back into a container to go in the fridge. Hal had all the containers set for one food thing or another with little white titles on them…but he hadn't made a bacon one, so I figured I'd write it on me'self and make a bacon container. The black marker distinctly showed my handwriting, and I guess I hoped Hal wouldn't notice. I put the meat away, and went back to the mixing bowl. The sizzling was steady now, and I need to make sure that it didn't burn.

I reached to get the mixing spoon, which I assumed had sunk somewhere to the bottom, when I paused. "Haft'a wash first." I reminded myself, realizing I had almost put my raw-bacon hands in the dough. I went back to the sink and washed my hands, making sure I got under my nails. Like Annie liked.

Now back to the bowl. I reached down to the bottom and grabbed the spoon, plunking it down to the side in some of the flour that surrounded the bowl. I smelled the bacon burning. My hands covered in dough, I wiped them on my shirt again and hurried to flip the meat over before it was ruined. It was a little blackened, but only Hal would complain about that.

I checked the clock. Annie would be down at 6:30 to make breakfast, it was 6:00 now. I was running out of time. I grabbed the bowl of dough and a cup, carrying them over to where I had a pan greased and on low. I carefully scooped out a bit of dough, and poured it into the pan. It spread from a perfect circle into a weird shape that looked like a kidney. I figured the next one would be better. I dipped another cup full, but when I poured it, it ended up making a shape like a skull without a body. I gave a shake to my head, to clear out the concerns that were cropping up. What if all my pancakes looked like body parts? I wouldn't surrender though, at least I could eat the body part ones, I'd haft'a make some that looked nice though. Nice and proper, real professional like, like she deserved and all. The one beside the kidney ended up lookin' like a post box, the one after that was shaped like a rubbish bin. Now I got a pan full of ugly cakes.

Bacon. I set the bowl of dough down and turned off the bacon. I hope she liked it crispy..even though she couldn't actually eat it. The kettle went off, and I removed it from the heat immediately, and opened the spout. I scouted the kitchen with my eyes to be sure no one was coming, and then I listened for some moments, and there were no footsteps upstairs.

I put some tea bags into mugs and set them off to the side.

The pancakes needed to be flipped, and I tried to get the flat spoon under the kidney to turn it over. The kidney came up halfway and then got stuck, I pulled up a bit harder and it broke in half. I watched the half in the air drip dough down into the pan. There was nothin' I could do now. I had to get them flipped or they'd burn. One by one I pried up, and the bin and the head had also gone all sticky and wouldn't come up. They ended up looking like wrinkled camping blankets, not pancakes, when I finally pried them up. I added more oil and checked the clock: 6:10. I let the pancakes sit for a minute, and then I flopped them on my plate. I'd eat those.

The second batch went better, 'cept this time they were all shaped like someone had vomited them up. Splatters and weird lumps. I looked at the pancakes as they began to turn dry around the edges. The book had told me that. May not know how much flour to add to the dough, but it said when the edges are bubbly and dry it's ready to flip. With the extra oil down, these turned over real nicely. They were all golden brown on the middle, like in the photograph in the book. Only thing was that the book showed nice round cakes, mine weren't very nice at all. Hal could have these ones, he'd cut them into squares or somethin' anyway. I put them on his plate.

My third attempt was a success, I leaned down close to the pan, crouching to be eye level with the cup, and poured the dough in, real slow like, to keep it from spreading any which-way. I watched four pancakes that were almost perfectly round bubble on the edges. I probably had the time to go and get the tea poured, but I wasn't gonna risk burning 'um.

They were brown in the middle, they had splattered a little when I flipped them, but I cut the extra drips off. I watched them intently, until I was sure they were done, and then I turned the stove off and put 3 of them on Annie's plate, and left one in the pan. In case I screwed something up. "Back up plans. They save lives, especially ours" is what McNair used to say, always have a spare stake or crucifix hidden away on ya. I'd never put it towards breakfast before though.

I put the cakes in a triangle. Then I tilted my head, and put them in a line, all over lapping like they were fish scales or something. That looked all pretty like.

I had sliced an orange, 'cause that was the picture in the book, and I put it like a little flower on the side of the plate. I felt a grin slip across my face. Annie was gonna love this. I went to Hal's plate, and took a fork, arranging the cakes like I did Annie's. Mine were too wrinkled to sit nice, so I grouped them into a little mound.

"What on earth have you done?"

I tensed, and tried to ignore him. He must have heard me, it wasn't time for him to get his morning tea yet. "I'm makin' breakfast."

I heard Hal breathing heavily, almost as if he were verging on goin' into shock. "You've got flour everywhere. Every single crevice. You Neanderthal, this is why Annie cooks…"

"So ya don't haft'a look. I'll be cleanin' it up when I've finished." I finished putting the "garish" that the book told me to use the orange slices for about the plates. I didn't bother lookin' back at Hal, I could sense him still standing in horrified disbelief at the doorway. "But if you're gonna stand there, rather than mindin' your own…stuff, then at set the table. Set it all proper like, with the napkins folded all dainty-ish." I commanded, knowing Annie would be down any moment now.

"Why have you done this?" Hal asked, his voice tight, as if he couldn't quite bear to tear himself from the mess I had made.

I turned around, holding my garished plate of pancakes, and motioned with a fork at him. "Annie's done a lot. For Baby and all. For the house." I watched Hal's face soften a little bit, his brows still furrowed, and his feet at the ridge of the powder explosion.

"Yes, that's a given. But why?" He motioned to the powder, and the dough I had smeared down my shirt.

"It's Motherin's day, Hal." I said softly, keeping my eyes trained on his for a moment, before turning around and taking a rasher of bacon and putting it on the orange garish, to make it look like a stem for the flower. "An' Annie's been more like a Mum than I ever had. I mean, she's been all stern and stuff, but she…" I shook my head and gave a loose shrug, I should have written out my thoughts in that debate format, like Allison taught me.

"Do we have napkin rings?" Hal asked from somewhere to my left. I knew he'd been listening, but thankfully he let the subject drop for the moment. "Ah, here they are. I should have remembered that." Hal muttered, as I finished up garishing the plates. I poured the mugs of tea to let them steep a bit, and then carried the plates out to the little dining area.

I looked at the table and laughed. Hal was standing beside one of the settings, his back straight and his smile vanished. "Something you find funny?"

The cloth napkins were rolled and put in the bamboo rings, the utensils were all set out at perfect distances, and glass juice cups were all filled. Rolling my eyes, I put Annie's plate down, and Hal's plate, and smiled. "Ya a butler in'a last 500 years?"

"No. But, I had butlers. So I know how a table should look when properly set." Hal's smug attitude no longer bothered me as much as it had used to, and I just nodded in response.

"Knew ya'd have somethin' like that up yer sleeve". I went back for my plate and the mugs, and realized I was still wearing my dough sullied shirt. I hurried through the powdery mess I had made and to the table, putting the tea and final plate down. "I've gotta change me shirt. Can ya fix the garish on Annie's?" I pointed at the orange slices which had slid a little, and looked up at Hal who had furrowed his brow.

"Please tell me you meant "Garnish"?" Hal chided, his hand having found a domino, he was now flicking it through his fingers.

"Eh? Yeah, make it look nice again while I get another shirt-" The doors to the kitchen swung open, and like the wrath of God, Annie came stomping out with her dark eyes trained on me and my shirt.

"What have you done to my kitchen, Tom! What've I told you about making explosives! That's it, that is going in the house rules!" Her attention and anger waved as she looked over at the table. "Hold on. What's this?"

"Wanted to make somethin' for ya. On account'a ya bein' so nice and all." I sputtered out, feeling a little embarrassed that she'd seen the mess in the kitchen first.

"Oh…you made me breakfast?" Annie melted. I had hoped she would, I knew she liked bein' treated nice, and her smile made me realize how flattered she was.

I wished I'd have had somethin' grand to say, but I just sort of stood with my hands finding their way into my pockets."On account of you takin' care of us all the time, ya know. Somethin' in return. An' I'll clean up the kitchen, I swear."

"Yes, you will, Tom McNair" Annie said sternly, but she had her hands up on her collarbone and she was still smiling. "You set the table, Hal?"

"Yes." He said in a slightly strained tone, I wasn't sure if it was because he was thinking about the kitchen and how he would have to clean it after I had cleaned or not.

"It's lovely. Oh, and look at the little…orange flower…bacon thing. That was very creative, Tom." She gushed, letting me know that she wasn't as angry as she was pleased.

"I f'aught it needed a garish."

"Garnish." Hal interjected.

"Garnish." I corrected myself.

"Why don't you pull out her seat for her, Tom?" Hal suggested tilting his head and raising his eyebrows, obviously wishing to move things along.

"Oh. Yeah." I grabbed her chair and pulled it out a little, she sat. I noticed Hal was making some kind of odd movement with his head, and I blinked at him. "What?"

"Push it in, push it in for her. Really, you have no sense of etiquette." Hal groaned, and waited until I had sat Annie all proper-like before he took his seat.


End file.
